We interrupt our regularly scheduled programming…so that I can talk about my period. Guys, don’t be candy asses and go “eww.” Only gays are exempt from this conversation. The thing about periods is…they fuckin’ suck. (And no, I’m not on-the-rag at the moment, but just writing about my menstrual flow makes me furious, hateful, and in desperate need of spaghetti and chocolate.) It’s hard to imagine that once upon a time, like Judy Blume’s Margaret, I actually wished for the thing. Oh please Lord, make bloody chunks of my uterus fall out once a month so that I can wear a diaper or a tiny cotton penis with a string all day long like a real woman! Periods are messy. Periods are smelly (except to dogs, who think bloody tampons are filet mignon). Periods prevent you from getting a perfect score on your computer science exam because they max out your so-called maxi-pad after an hour and make you spend the rest of your exam time in the girls’ bathroom scrubbing the blood out of your acid-washed jeans with those brown paper towels that disintegrate into tiny granules the moment they get wet and yes, I’m still bitter about it.

Uh, where was I? Oh right, periods suck. So when I read this morning that Japanese comedienne Naomi Matsushima has designed pads printed with stars and camo so that “women could pass their menstrual period more happily,” I very nearly booked a flight to Japan just so I could find Naomi and punch her in the boob.

Naomi, you and I both know that there is no way to pass your menstrual period “more happily.” You can pass your menstrual period without ramming your Volvo into that douchebag’s Escalade who stole your parking spot at the mall. You can pass your menstrual period without bitch-slapping a stranger who looks at you sideways in a bar. You can pass your menstrual period without totally kicking in your boyfriend’s balls so that he’s unable to father children in the future. Is that the definition of happiness? If so, then we are in agreement. If not, I can only conclude that you’ve never gotten your period nor do you have a uterus and you are, in fact, an incredibly life-like robot that sad pervs looking for artificial companionship would gladly throw their money at because, among other things, they’ll never have to deal with the “eww” of your unhappy menstrual period.